


quot estis in convivio

by missgiven



Series: trim the hearth & set the table [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, plant crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgiven/pseuds/missgiven
Summary: Crossover with Parks and Recreation. At dinner with Leslie and the gang, along with two strange new guests, Ron Swanson makes an unexpected friend.Ron was curious what these new, effete looking men would order though. You could learn a lot about a man from their dinner choices.Anthony ordered a four ounce filet mignon (pathetic), rare (admirable), a glass of red wine (acceptable), and a small salad (lamentable).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Diane Lewis/Ron Swanson
Series: trim the hearth & set the table [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564021
Comments: 5
Kudos: 156





	quot estis in convivio

**Author's Note:**

> Why are Aziraphale and Crowley in America? What year is it? Where are we in either canon? I don't know!! 
> 
> Perhaps Aziraphale had to pop over to America to influence some campaigns in Leslie's favor. I imagine this to be a bit more book characterization than show characterization so let's say it's well after the apocalypse didn't happen. They're married. 
> 
> I've only watched the first four or five seasons of Parks & Rec so it's somewhere in there. Leslie's married to Ben. I've decided that Ron and Diane are married as I guess that's a foregone conclusion. That's all I've got.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: detailed discussion of food and eating. Also it's Ron's POV and he thinks of Aziraphale as a pansy and Aziraphale and Crowley as effete. Ron doesn't mean those words in anger - I'm sure he thinks of them as neutral descriptors - and is as perfectly accepting of A & C as he is of anybody else, but just like. Putting it out there. THE Southern Pansy rides again, and so forth.

Ron was not pleased to go out to dinner with Leslie and the gang — he was never pleased with that — but it looked like it was going to be a slightly better time than normal. In the spirit of giving, or some other kind of liberal garbage, Leslie had made a reservation at Robert O’Sullivan’s. It was a new restaurant in town, and Ron didn’t usually hold with new restaurants, but they served a 30 oz steak. And that was to be commended. So Diane had called a babysitter for the girls and they’d gone off to meet the kids, as she had taken to calling them.

When they got to the table, all the usual idiots were around, but there were also two men that Ron had never seen before. One of them looked like Tom and Ben had had a skinny, twitchy baby. The other one, wearing a sweater vest, looked like a pansy. But he stood up politely when Diane approached the table, and didn’t sit again until she had. And Ron could appreciate old fashioned manners.

The two seats that remained open were between Tom and the soft looking man. Diane, thank God, had an inexplicable fondness for Tom, so she took that chair.

“Ron!!” Leslie yelled at him. It never ceased to amaze him how the woman loaded on multiple punctuation marks. “Diane!! Welcome to Friends And Family Friday!!”

Diane thanked her warmly. Ron stared. Mostly fondly.

“We have _new friends_ today!” Leslie continued. She bustled out of her chair at the head of the table to stand behind the two new men. “This is Anthony Crowley.” She pronounced it like _Antony_. Ron didn’t trust it. “He’s just a gem. You remember that hooligan who was illicitly planting in our parks a while ago? Turns out it was Anthony! But he really did a better job landscaping than the landscapers we hired. So on his Community Service Day to make up for the transgression, he and I collaborated on new plans — ones that will use up old plants from McGregor’s Garden Center! Beautiful landscaping in our parks _and_ less waste! Just incredible. Anthony, this is Ron Swanson and his wife Diane.”

Ron awkwardly nodded in Anthony’s direction. Anthony gave a twitchy little wave back. Maybe Rob would like him. He’d consider it.

“And this is Anthony’s husband Ezra Fell. He owns a bookshop back in London (they’re from London!!) which seems to me too close to a library to be trusted but Anthony tells me he hates customers so maybe we can trust him. I’m not sure. Ron and Diane, Ezra; Ezra, Ron and Diane.”

If Ezra Fell noted the slightly pinched tone Leslie’s voice had taken when she introduced him, not to mention the less-than-winning endorsement, he didn’t show it. 

Ron settled himself in for an evening of avoiding awkward conversations with a foreign stranger. 

The waiter came by shortly, and Ron ordered the largest steak on the menu. No seasonings, no sides. Glass of water. Glass of whisky. A perfect meal.

He sat back, rested his laced hands on his stomach, and thought contentedly of the food that would soon be coming his way. He didn’t even let the pitiful excuses for meals his friends were ordering upset him. Not even when Chris asked the waiter what “plant-based options” were available. 

Well, that one did sting a little.

He was curious what these new, effete looking men would order though. You could learn a lot about a man from their dinner choices.

Anthony ordered a four ounce filet mignon (pathetic), rare (admirable), a glass of red wine (acceptable), and a small salad (lamentable).

Frankly, Ron expected the same miserable performance from his husband.

“I’d like to start with, hmm, how’s your Californian zinfandel? I’ve not heard of the vineyard.”

Ron winced. This wasn’t off to a good start.

“Oh, I’m sure it will do,” Ezra said after the young waiter had stammered for a moment or two. He sounded displeased. “Although — on second thought, I’d like that wine with my dinner, if you please. The pinot grigio with the salad course. For that, I’d like your wedge salad. Is the iceberg lettuce nice and crisp?”

Ron thought he could hear Anthony muttering something that sounded like “of course it’s crisp, you fussy bastard.” He thought about liking Anthony despite his dinner order.

“Very good, very good,” Ezra was continuing, assured of the crispness of the lettuce. “I’d like your ten ounce flat iron. And a lobster - bit of a surf and turf, eh? And a jacket potato. Yes, I mean a baked potato, of course. And the asparagus. And the mushrooms and onions in the red wine sauce. And I believe you mentioned a house risotto? With squash, was it? Oh yes, an order of that, please. I think that should just about do it.”

Ron didn’t usually agree with getting all the rabbit food kind of sides that Ezra was getting, but even he had to admit that he felt impressed with the breadth of food.

“That’s some order you put in there, Ezra,” he said. “Usually when I go out to eat with these clowns I’m unmatched. It’s nice to have someone to keep up with me.”

Ezra smiled at him indulgently. It was unsettling. 

“My Anthony can give me something of a hard time when it comes to eating. Although I know it’s all a ruse. He still gives me his dessert to finish, every time.”

Ron thought it sounded kind of sweet. He didn’t like dessert, but sometimes he finished Diane’s cheesecake when she couldn’t manage it, and he had to admit it always felt a little romantic. And cheesecake was all right. As desserts went.

“Have you worked with Ms. Knope long, Mr. Swanson?” Ezra asked as the drinks were brought out.

Ron looked over his mustache at him. Weirdly formal. Kind of nice.

“About five years now. And you don’t need to call me Mr. Swanson.”

“Apologies,” Ezra said, looking annoyed. “I forget how informal everyone is nowadays. I prefer Mr. Fell for myself, but everyone looks at you funny if you don’t give a given name, and what can you do.”

Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The man couldn’t be a day older than he was. And anyway — 

“Well, Mr. Fell, I always said people get too familiar with me too fast. You can call me Mr. Swanson.”

Mr. Fell gave him another unsettling, indulgent smile. 

They fell into discussing business matters. Ron got the impression that Mr. Fell knew exactly how to run a business, which he respected, but simply chose not to _do_ business, which he didn’t. And being English, he didn’t seem to understand Ron’s commitment to reducing government spending. He seemed to find such a reduction distasteful. Especially the thought that a reduction in government-funded activities would drive people into private businesses where they might, for example, buy his books. 

All in all, they had exactly opposite views on some important business practices, but they each stood by them so fervently that they liked each other anyway.

When the food was served, Ron was again impressed by his unlikely dinner companion. Ron and Mr. Fell ate in almost complete silence, focused entirely on their food — Ron on his respectable steak, Mr. Fell on his somewhat respectable array of rabbit food. Occasionally, Diane would offer Ron a bite of one of her side dishes, and he’d grudgingly accept. Mr. Fell offered bites of everything to Anthony. Aside from that, though, they were equally committed to the dishes in front of them with the kind of single-minded attention such fine fare deserved. Conversation flowed over and around them while the two men ate. It was a bracingly affirming communion.

After dinner, Mr. Fell ordered cheesecake.

Not to be outdone, and in a move that shocked nearly everyone present, himself included, Ron ordered a slice of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from The Boar’s Head Carol. Translated variously: “As many as are in the feast” or “all of you who are at this feast” or “As you all feast so heartily.” The carol has a vigorous Ron Swanson energy and I’d say it’s traditional enough to make Aziraphale happy too.
> 
> Prompt taken from the instagram AdventWord. Day 1: Unexpected.


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